The Misadventures of Jack and Lisa
by ThisIsChiKaOnFFdotNet
Summary: Lisa Reisert is ready for a major change. Little does she know that change involves Jackson Rippner.
1. Authors Note

Authors Note:

Ok guys, so I know some of this stuff is pretty far fetched but…that's why they call it fiction right? I write for my own enjoyment BUT I do enjoy those reviews you people seem to be so fond of. I'll try to be a good author, really. I put up all I have so far but the problem is I don't write on a daily basis. So if this story goes away for a while and then magically appears again, don't be surprised. As for the title, I didn't really have one but I grew fond of the word 'misadventure' and well, yeah. So don't be surprised if one day this lovely piece of fiction has an actual title. I write when the inspiration comes. So, without further ado…

The Misadventures of Jack and Lisa

Written By: ThisIsChiKaOnFFdotNet formally known as GuruChiKa3g

I hope you enjoy it!


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own these words, I made them all up. I did, really. No one has ever used words such as these before, and I shall sue anyone who says different. As for the two main characters...not mine. But once again, words...alll mine._

_--_

_Her eyes danced with a mixture of excitement and fear as she watched him stalk closer. Light glinted off the blade in his right hand and she thought of running for a brief moment. That window of opportunity had quickly closed as she felt his body press against hers, the knife still down at his side. Her fingers numbly ran the length of the blade and she winced as a small amount of blood dripped from her hand to the concrete. Taking her hand in his he brought the wound to his mouth, tasting her blood. A smile spread slowly across his face as he drew the knife into the air and brought it crashing down into her…_

"Fuck," she exclaimed waking up in a tangled mess of sheets. Her body was tense and drenched in a cold sweat. Her hand flew to her chest half expecting to feel the handle of his knife still protruding from her heart.

It had been four months to the day since Lisa Reisert had taken the red eye flight from hell, but she hadn't gone one night without seeing the haunting blue eyes of Jackson Rippner. Unfortunately for Lisa as the months passed by her life had gotten worse. The attempted assassination of the Keefe family was only the beginning. Shortly after the whole debacle her beloved father, Joe Reisert, had suffered a heart attack which ultimately ended his life. That's when her nightmares turned into dreams. Lisa wanted desperately to still call them nightmares, but she couldn't lie to herself. Nightmares were full of fear; these dreams were full of what could only be described as passion.

Turning her head to the right; Lisa glared angrily at the bright red numbers on her alarm clock. 3am, why did it always have to be 3am?

'…_scrambled eggs at 3am…'_

"Get out of my head," she growled fixing her covers and pulling them up to her chest.

If she went right back to sleep she'd have another two hours of rest before having to start the day. But sharp knives, piercing blue eyes, and unwanted emotions kept her from having anymore of that much needed sleep. So Lisa started her day two hours earlier then she needed to, which was becoming a rather annoying routine. When the alarm clock _did_ go off she was already showered and trying her best to enjoy her morning coffee. How her life could've gotten so messed up in such a short time was beyond her. Four months ago she was happy.

"Yeah, happy…happy living a lonely sheltered life." Lisa had recently acquired the habit of talking to herself.

Finishing her coffee and placing the mug in the sink she decided, for the third time that week, to start work early and headed out the door with her keys and purse in her hand.

--

"Lux Atlantic, this is Cynthia speaking, how may I help you?"

Lisa smiled upon hearing the familiar greeting of her hotel. Striding past the front desk she waved at Cynthia and headed to her office to get started on some paper work. Cynthia gave her a quizzical look and smirked shaking her head knowing all too well that Lisa was in early due to insomnia. She felt bad for her, soon to be former, manager and hoped that Lisa's early retirement would help her relax.

As Cynthia finished her phone call she noticed that Lisa was heading to the front desk with a not so pleasant look on her face.

"What's up Leese?" She asked with a larger then life smile plastered on her face.

"Where did those flowers come from?"

Cynthia's smile grew wider at the question. "Apparently you have a secret admirer," she said in a wistfully romantic tone. "They arrived about 5 minutes before you did. Who are they from?"

'_Happy retirement, Leese. Wonders never cease.'_

"I don't know," she lied. She knew who they were from.

Part of her was flattered that he'd sent her a bouquet of her favorite flowers, but the sane part of her was scared that he was back to finish the job. He was _supposed _to be dead, or at the very least in a maximum security prison playing house with a big black man named Bubba. But Jackson Rippner had seemingly disappeared into thin air just hours before his trial. It still bothered her that a man in his state could just vanish without leaving any clues as to where he'd gone. She knew he'd come back for her though, she just didn't expect there to be flowers involved. Something like relief seemed to fill her body. Maybe it was the end for her; she had nothing left to survive for really.

After her rape, Lisa threw herself into her job at the Lux Atlantic, quickly working her way up from head desk clerk to hotel manager in a matter of months. But after facing Jackson she found that the mundane problems of the hotel guests did little more then aggravate her. She found herself to be angry all the time and, on more then one occasion, had to walk away from some of the 'friendlier' male guests before that anger turned into physical violence. Lisa had given her two weeks notice shortly after her father passed away. She intended to take the money from the sale of his house and just go. She was going to travel, see Europe, hell maybe even Canada. She didn't care where she went; she just needed to get out of Florida. She found that it was getting harder and harder to lose herself in the problems of others, and it was damn near impossible to face her own.

--

"Goodnight," Lisa called over her shoulder as she made her way to the employee parking lot juggling her purse, keys, and a rather large bouquet of daisies.

Two more days and that would be the last time she'd walk out of the Lux Atlantic as Lisa Reisert, manager extraordinaire. The day had gone by fairly quick save the few agitated guests, and the child in room 1235 that apparently thought that a bar of decorative soap was food.

She sighed as she settled into her car and got ready for the drive home, looking over at the flowers on the passenger's seat she couldn't help but feel as if he were there; watching her. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts Lisa pulled out of her parking space and onto the busy boulevard. She glanced toward the clock set into her dashboard, 7:00 on a Friday night and her only plans were to go home and go to bed.

"Woo hoo," she said aloud with sarcasm dripping from her voice, "Another amazing Friday night of nothingness." She looked sheepishly around the empty car and decided to stop by the liquor store. A bottle of wine would do her good; and maybe she'd go all out and get a movie while she was at it.

After spending an hour roaming aimlessly through the stocked shelves of her local Blockbuster, Lisa decided she was better off watching something she already owned. She made her way back to her car and smiled at the bottle of Yellowtail Shiraz that now shared a seat with the daisies. She drove the rest of the way to her home in silence contemplating why she had brought the flowers with her. The drive was short and by the time she reached her small condo on the beach all she felt like doing was showering and going to bed.

The house was dark and Lisa spent a good 15 minutes going from room to room in the small dwelling checking for intruders. When she was satisfied with the emptiness of her humble abode she made her way to the bedroom and got ready for a shower.

The warm water cascaded down her naked body pooling, for a short moment, by her feet before running down the drain. It seemed to wash away all of her stress. She just needed to clear her head. Jackson was back, and sending her flowers? She felt tired and confused, all she wanted to do was shower and go to bed. Thinking made her head hurt. She hadn't realized how long she'd been in the shower until the warm droplets of water began to run cold. Stepping out of the basin she wrapped herself in a large towel and proceeded thru the doorway into her bedroom. Glancing at the clock she realized how early it was.

"10:00 on a Friday night and you're getting ready for bed?" She questioned her reflection atop the bureau as she pulled out her pajama bottoms and a tank top. "Leese, you're too young for this shit." With a shake of her head she slammed the drawer and got herself dressed. She hated what she had become and was determined to change it. Just not tonight, tonight she needed sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I invented the universer so therefor everything in it belongs to me. Except for Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner._

_--_

Lisa sat on her bed with her knees to her chest, looking out the window. She hated the word paranoid, but there was no other way to describe what she was feeling. She flinched at every creek of a beam and every whistle of the wind; it could be him. Glaring at the mocking clock, she saw that only an hour had passed; she gave an aggravated sigh and decided a drink would calm her nerves. Slowly she rose from the bed looking left and right, expecting Jackson to magically materialize in a dark corner and…and what? That was what scared her the most; she had no idea why he really came back. Four months was a long time to hold a grudge. But why else would he come back and risk getting caught?

Lost in her thoughts Lisa was caught completely off guard by the large man blocking her kitchen entry way. Her first reaction was to scream, but the man's form was deceiving and quick as lightning a large hand grasped her throat cutting off the noise before it could come out. Lisa was angry. Why was it that all the men she found herself coming into contact with wanted to do physical harm to her person? The anger built into rage and Lisa Reisert decided that she was not going to give up without a fight.

His large form covered her body, pushing her against the wall. He was smiling, thinking that he had won. That would be the downfall of any man who tried to hurt her. Quick thinking and some self defense classes at the gym brought Lisa's knee into her attacker's groin. Shocked, the man backed up an inch before grasping his wounded jewels and falling forward. With cat like reflexes, that Lisa didn't know she possessed, she punched him in the face before moving to the side. He was down, and disoriented but he'd be back up soon. Lisa ran down the hall to the front door as fast as her legs would carry her and tried violently to throw it open. But her previous paranoid state had made her lock all three locks and she scrambled, with trembling fingers, to open them. Finally after what seemed like hours, but in reality was only seconds, the door was unlocked and she grasped the handle again. But her victory was short lived for as soon as it was opened a strong hand pushed it closed behind her.

"Shit!" She exclaimed as she dodged the burly man's large fist.

"Listen bitch," he snarled, "I'm gonna kill ya any way, so youse might as well make it easier on yourself and just give up."

That was his game? He wanted her to give up because she was going to die either way? There was fire in her eyes as she stared at her would be attacker. The last man that tried to kill her on her territory left on a stretcher. Then she remembered the gun she had bought shortly after her encounter with Jackson. It was sitting in her bed side table drawer just waiting for her to squeeze the trigger. If she could only make it to her bedroom she'd be safe. Without a second thought she shoved the man with all her might and made a mad dash for the room at the end of the hall. She slammed the door shut only to have it swing back and smack her in the face. He was spry for a fat man, she'd give him that. His large hands wrapped around her throat once more and that along with the pounding in her head made her struggle even harder.

"_This isn't how it's supposed to happen…_"she thought grimly as she clawed at the man's hands with what little strength she had left. He pushed her onto the unmade bed holding her down with his body weight as he continued to strangle the life out of her. She gasped out for just one more breath only to find that the pain was unbearable and a small part of her hoped it would be over soon. The room began to fade and dying became inevitable. Her hands grew weak and slipped from his as she heard another voice enter the room.

--

For a moment she held her breath unaware that his hands had been moved.

"Breathe, Leese." She was shocked when she heard his familiar voice, and perplexed to hear it laced with, what sounded like, concern.

The first breath was like swallowing glass, her throat was beyond sore and her lungs ached as they were filled to their maximum capacity. She coughed violently as she sat up on her bed looking around for her former assailant but instead met the cool blue eyes of Jackson Rippner. The stare was broken only when she was distracted by a grunt bringing her attention to the floor by the foot of the bed.

"Lisa, I need your gun," he was so nonchalant; it was as if he was merely asking for a stick of gum. But, looking back at the man bleeding on the floor, she knew it was a firearm he needed and not minty fresh breath. She hesitated and the bleeding man made a move to get up. Jackson quickly stuck his already blood covered knife into the man's shoulder before kicking him in the ribs.

"Gun Leese, Now," she jumped at his command and, without another thought, pulled the weapon from its hiding place in the drawer and placed it in his out-stretched hand. She watched in fascination as Jackson interrogated the intruder.

"Why are you here Jones?" He asked as if he were only inquiring about how the other man's day had been.

"I was sent to kill that bitch; you know there's a hit on her Rippner," Jones spat through clenched teeth.

Jackson cocked his head and smirked at Jones's lewd explanation before firing off a round into the man's left arm. Jones cried out a string of expletives while clutching his new wound. Crouching down to be level with the other man Jackson clucked his tongue disapprovingly before speaking.

"Robert, my dear friend, it seems you've been misinformed. There's no longer a hit on Lisa Reisert, I saw to that personally."

Lisa couldn't take her eyes off the scene unfolding in front of her. This man, Jones, had tried to kill her in her own home; and now Jackson, of all people, was saving her? She glanced towards the window for a second, thinking that maybe the world was coming to an end. Maybe this was an apocalypse, and the radiation from the meteors was making everyone crazy; that's why Jackson was in her bedroom trying to pry information, by ways of torture at gun point, out of this man who had tried to kill her. But she had no such luck, and turned her gaze back to the bloodied man on the floor. Her brain screamed at her to run. Jackson Rippner was in her house, in her _bedroom_, wielding not only a knife but also her own personal gun; a gun which she had handed to him without a second thought. Her body, however, was in a state of shock. She felt as if she were glued to her spot on the bed and couldn't help but watch as Jackson spoke with this man, Robert Jones.

"No _Jack_," Robert spat from his position on the carpeted floor, "apparently _you've_ been misinformed. Ms. Reisert here is still wanted dead. And you know as well as I do, that if I don't get the job done someone else will."

Jackson was not one to respond well to threats. He glared at Robert seemingly formulating a plan. He'd use this man to send a message. Robert Jones was known for taking care of business quickly and efficiently. So, Jackson thought, sending him back wounded and half dead would be just what he needed to get his point through. Jackson stood back up and, aiming the gun at Jones' left foot, shot the man for the second time that night smiling at the cries of pain emanating from his mouth.

"Now Jones, I'm gonna need you to relay a message for me. Do you think you could do that?" He spoke as if he were talking to a child, but the look on Jackson's face told the other man all he needed to know. Robert Jones liked to kill people, but he valued his own life; so he begrudgingly offered to relay Jackson's message.

With one final bullet wound to the left hand, 'for good measure' as Jackson had put it, the larger man was hoisted to his feet and half carried, half dragged to the front door. Lisa scampered after the men curious with how the situation was playing out. She watched through the open door as Jackson put Jones into a beat up old truck and pat him on the back before slamming the door and seeing him off at gun point.

"This is fuckin' weird," she muttered to herself as Jackson strode purposefully back up her front walk way.

"Keep talking to yourself and people will start thinking _you're_ weird." Jackson said with a smirk.

She fainted; he didn't blame her she'd dealt with a lot in such a little time. Without hesitation Jackson picked up the passed out Lisa and brought her back to her bedroom. He laid her out gently on the mattress and covered her with the blankets. With a final caress of her face he busied himself with cleaning the blood stained floor in the hall. He'd never be able to fix the white carpet in her bedroom, but the wooden floor in the hall would be easy.

--

Lisa groaned as she slowly came back to consciousness. Her body was aching and she was disoriented. It wasn't the worst dream she'd had, but it definitely was a strange one. There had never before been a third party present in her dreams. It was always just her and him; and most times, a big knife. She didn't like to think about the times when the knife wasn't involved. She shifted her body towards her bedside table to get a better look at the time, 12:45am. Had it really been a dream? Her heart sped up as she realized the drawer was open and the gun was missing.

"Shit," she muttered to herself pushing her sore body into a sitting position. She'd really given her gun to him? Crawling to the end of the mattress she saw the red stains on her carpet letting her know, once and for all, that what had happened was real. Lisa began to panic; Jackson was possibly somewhere in her house and definitely in possession of her gun. Nothing about this situation was good. Placing her feet silently on an unaffected area of the carpet below her she slowly rose, as if just her being awake would alert him. With shifty eyes she made her way to the window in her bedroom.

Beyond the glass she saw the serenity of the beach. The moon was high in the sky and the ocean lapped at the shore. She hesitated for a moment before lifting the window open, the cool night breeze wafted in carrying with it the salty smell of the ocean.

Dropping her right foot out of the open window she glanced towards the door. She felt the sand squish between her bare toes just as her bedroom door began to open. As a foot made its way into her room a strong gust of wind blew alerting the owner of said foot to the situation at hand. She unceremoniously fell out of the window as Jackson fully entered the room. Quickly scrambling to her feet she met his eyes before sprinting off down the beach. She was running on pure adrenalin having, at that moment, completely forgotten about the aches that had plagued her body mere seconds ago. Breathing heavy she turned her head expecting to see him running behind her, but there was nothing. Losing her balance, Lisa tumbled over her own feet and fell into the soft sand.

The sand was cool against her over heated skin and the sound of the waves relaxed her heart. Lisa knew she should get up, but her body just said no. Nearly 5 minutes had passed and he still didn't come.

"_Maybe he left…_" she didn't know how that thought made her feel. All she knew at that moment were the calming tones of the beach. She didn't feel like running any more, the damage from the night was catching up to her. So Lisa just rested in the sand.

Time passed serenely with no sign of Jackson and, on the hour mark, Lisa decided to go home. Picking her tired body up from the sand, she tried to brush the offending granules off of her naked arms before heading back to her condo. She realized she hadn't gone too far and was grateful that her bed was close. The thought of climbing back in through her bedroom window amused her weary mind and she stifled an exhausted giggle.


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: This story is all true. It happened to me when my name was Lisa Reisert and I looked a lot like Rachel Adams. You don't really believe that, do you?_

_--_

Lisa should've called the police the minute she climbed back into her bedroom but, for some reason unknown to her, she didn't. Instead she took her second shower of the night before cursing at the blood stains on her new white carpet and finally curling up on the couch in the living room to catch a little sleep. She slept past her alarm and was rudely awoken by the sunshine streaming in through the windows. She groaned and her body protested the movements she made as she swung her legs over the edge of the couch.

"Shit, I'm late," she was groggy and her head was pounding. The TV roared to life as Lisa hit the power button on the remote. Her friendly, local newscaster informed her that it was '5 past 7 in the morning.'

She slowly made her way off the couch and towards the bathroom; each excruciating step reminding her of the previous night's events. Lisa wondered if she'd make it to work at all that day. But upon entering the bathroom she realized there would be no way to cover the large bruise that had taken up residence on the left side of her face.

"Stupid door…" she muttered to herself as she gingerly fingered the black and blue. Wincing, she tilted her chin up to gain a better view of her neck. She groaned in distaste at the discoloration she found there. She didn't recognize the girl in the mirror; it was all so…_surreal_.

The bruises were too deep to cover with foundation so Lisa decided to call in sick, it was her second to last day and she was caught up on all her work. Telling Cynthia that she just needed to sort some things out, she fed her a story of nervous apprehension regarding her fast approaching retirement. After hanging up the phone she heaved a large sigh from somewhere deep within her and decided to shower.

In the water she could imagine that nothing was happening, everything thing was how it should be, her life was normal. She plugged the drain and sat down in the basin pulling her knees to her chest watching as the water simultaneously rose from the bottom of the tub and rained down from the shower head. Lisa tilted her head up so that the spray of the shower was hitting her bruised face. She smiled and welcomed the warm droplets; the feeling of being caught in a rainstorm entered her mind and comforted her aching body. The past couple of months had been the calm before the storm and she knew that from this point on she'd be on hurricane watch.

The tub was half full when Lisa decided to get out of the water. She dripped the short distance to her bedroom and threw on an old pair of jeans and a new tank top. Turning to face her bed she saw, once again, the blood stained carpet. Angry, Lisa decided that she would clean the carpet no matter what it took. She stomped into the kitchen but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a post it note stuck to her cabinet.

'_Lisa,_

_Hope you enjoyed your jog on the beach._

_I'll be seeing you soon._

_By the way, you're welcome._'

There was no signature, but she knew it was from him. Lisa could imagine the cocky smirk his face held as he wrote on her pink post it stack. She violently crumbled the note in her fist and threw it across the small room before ripping open the cabinet under the sink and pulling out various cleaning items. She returned to her room with an assortment of carpet cleaners, a carton of baking soda, a bottle of bleach, a scrub brush, and some Windex.

Lisa Reisert was a very determined woman; once she put her mind to something she saw it through to the end. But blood was hard to remove from fabric, especially if it sat over night, and within 15 minutes of starting she was ready to give up. She kneeled in front of the now soaked carpet breathing in the fumes of the various products she'd poured onto it. Her hands ached from the tight grip she held on her scrub brush and she was starting to think the tingling in her fingers was from the unsafe mixture of chemicals.

"Fuck this," she said heaving a sigh while getting to her feet. "I'll just buy a new carpet." She left the bedroom as it was and returned to the kitchen. Checking the clock on her microwave she decided that with all she'd been through 10 am was not too early to start drinking. Fishing the cork screw from its drawer Lisa proceeded to open the bottle of wine she'd bought the night before and poured herself a large glass. She retired to the living room with her goblet and flipped aimlessly through the mundane programs of day time television until she settled on some Lifetime movie about an abusive husband.

--

Lisa awoke when her body collided with the floor; she didn't remember falling asleep, and was confused about what had woken her up. A shrill ringing was emanating throughout her condo and it took her bewildered mind a minute to register it as the sound of her telephone. Her hands still smelled of cleaning fluids and her glass sat half empty on the coffee table. Looking at the clock she saw it was already 2 pm and wondered who would be calling her, and why. She pushed herself off of the floor and made her way to the kitchen where the phone resided.

"Hello," she said her voice still thick from her slumber. Clearing her throat she tried again, "Hello?"

"Hello and how are you this evening? My name is Peter Johnson and I've got a fabulous offer for _you_, Mrs. Wellington!" The voice on the other end of the phone was loud and obnoxious, and apparently had the wrong number.

Lisa held the phone at arms length and stared at it for a moment before hanging it up. She turned on her heel and was about to go back to her position on the couch when she was stopped by an angry rumble in her stomach. After rummaging in her small kitchen for a good 15 minutes Lisa felt inspired to create a unique pasta meal. Grabbing a box of pasta, some zucchinis, and the bottle of wine she let the spirit of Rachel Ray embody her and set to work. Half an hour and half a bottle of wine later Lisa was finally cooking. She had the pasta boiling in a pot and the zucchini frying in a pan next to it. She tossed some wine in with the vegetables before adding more to her never empty cup. Flipping the kitchen radio on Lisa began to sing along with Rob Thomas and Carlos Santana.

"…I could change my life to better suit your mood 'cause you're so smooth!" she held her wooden spoon like a microphone and danced around the tiny space as she sang. Giggling and red faced she returned to put the finishing touches on her meal.

"Beat that Rachel Ray. May have taken me more then 30 minutes to cook but I bet it's just as good." Fairly confident in her new concoction she grabbed the plate and turned to put it on the kitchen table.

"Aw honey, you cooked," Jackson was standing in her kitchen leaning against the counter opposite her as if he belonged there. Startled by his sudden appearance Lisa dropped her plate and watched as it hit the tiled floor before shattering and spilling her freshly cooked meal.

"Shit," she muttered stooping down to pick up the pieces more upset about her masterpiece begin destroyed then his presence in her home. "You should wear a fucking bell or something," she said glaring up at him.

Jackson was slightly taken aback by her demeanor until he noticed the wine bottle and glass sitting on the counter. "Leese, are you…drunk?" He asked, amused, as she continued to grumble about her broken dish. She stood up and threw out the mess before reaching for her wine glass.

"I think you've had enough," Jackson said also moving for the glass. They grasped it simultaneously and Lisa pulled the glass towards herself resulting in a spill of red fluid onto her white tank top. She stormed out of the kitchen in a fit of anger complaining about red stains on white things. Jackson, both puzzled and amused by the situation, followed Lisa into her bedroom where she was still ranting as she pulled a new shirt out of the drawer. With raised eyebrows he watched as, without hesitation, she lifted the white tank top over her head and replaced it with a black one.

"And that," she exclaimed pointing at her carpet. "What the _hell_ am I supposed to do about _that_? I just bought this damn carpet and now I have to get a new one? This is just ridiculous; Every time you fucking show up my life goes to shit!" Her arms were flailing and she was gesturing wildly as she closed the gap between them with each word.

"Lisa, calm down. You should be thanking me, I saved your life!" He said incredulously. "Besides," He added growing annoyed with her antics, "it's just a carpet."

"_Just_ a carpet," she said through clenched teeth and, before either one of them knew what was happening, her fist slammed into his nose. In a blur of limbs and body Jackson slammed her against the nearest wall effectively pinning her in place with his frame. There was a surge of pain as her head collided with the wall and she saw stars appear where Jackson's face had been.

"I'm awake," she gasped, fear now evident in her face. At this statement Jackson's rage subsided a bit, he took a step back still holding her in place with his hands on her upper arms.

He bent over slightly to catch her adverted gaze and that's when she executed her next attack. Aiming for his balls Lisa's knee collided with his stomach knocking the wind out of him and sending him to the floor coughing. She hesitated a moment and Jackson grabbed her ankle pulling her feet out from under her. She hit her head on the carpeted floor and, with an aggravated yell, kicked out her free foot catching him in the shoulder. However this did nothing to subdue him and, in one quick move, Jackson had both of them on their feet.

He stood behind her holding her arms in to her back at a painful angle. "I don't wanna hurt you Lisa," his breathing was heavy in her ear from their previous struggle. "But you need to calm down." His tone was more firm for that statement and she stopped moving for a moment.

She tilted her head upwards and to the side to look at his face. He looked tired and aggravated, much like a father reprimanding a daughter and certainly not like a man trying to kill a woman.

"Let me go." She said it as a simple statement, neither force nor defeat in her voice. He relinquished his hold on her and she took a step away from him stretching her sore arms before turning to face him.

For the first time in four months, save the events from the previous night, she was able to drink in the whole of Jackson Rippner. He wore dark grey slacks and a matching jacket. The shirt underneath was an ashen blue that made his eyes appear more vivid then she'd remembered. She searched for a mark on his neck and he shifted uneasily under her gaze; for a moment she felt a small sense of pride in making him nervous. Lisa bit her lip to keep from smiling and scowled when she drew blood.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before she spoke again. "What do you want?" Her voice held a tinge of annoyance and she was sure that he'd pick up on it.

"Can't an old friend just stop by to say hi?" He asked innocently a small smile playing on his lips.

"We're not friends. Now what do you _want_ from me?" She was tired too and the last question came out as an exasperated shout.

The room fell silent and Jackson seemed to stare past Lisa, collecting his thoughts, before speaking. "Ok," he started coolly, "I…I wanna help you." He'd hoped it would come out less…pathetic sounding.

"You…wanna help me," she echoed his phrase questioningly, rolling the words around on her tongue. "Excuse me if I don't jump at that offer but, what the fuck? You tired to _kill_ me last time we met and now you want to help me?" She tried to keep her voice level but could barely contain her anger at his ludicrous request.

He sighed heavily before responding; apparently he was better at concealing emotions then her. "Um, Leese," he started with a smirk, cocking his head to the side while using his index finger to scratch above his right eyebrow. "Lemme jog your memory a bit." His tone darkened as did his features and he said, "You stabbed me in the throat with a fucking pen."

"Yeah," she said incredulously, "you threatened to have my dad killed! And, you-you assaulted me in the fucking bathroom!"

In a sense, they were like two school kids in a shouting match. Throwing out past offences and aiming to kill. But, unlike the spat of innocent children, underneath it all there was the looming threat of actual physical violence. Jackson stepped forward and Lisa stepped back, her legs hit the small table holding her alarm clock and in a blind rage she ripped the hunk of white plastic from its resting spot and threw it in his direction. Her aim was off and it whizzed past his head scarcely grazing his cheek before hitting the wall and falling, broken, to the floor. They both stared at the crack on the wall where the clock had hit.

Then, he laughed; "You are so lucky…" he trailed off, shaking his head, as his laughter subsided. "Listen Leese," he said more seriously, in business mode now, "if you don't want my help, that's fine. You can stay here and get yourself killed." He continued nonchalantly, "However, if you're willing to accept my offer we need to leave now."

"Leave," Lisa questioned in a voice so small that she wasn't sure if the word had actually come out of her mouth. The rage that had propelled the clock across the room was short lived and Lisa felt drained. She wanted nothing more then to just curl up in a ball and sleep forever.

'…_and that's what will happen if you stay here.'_ She thought sourly. Was that what she really wanted; to die, alone, in her apartment? Before she could seriously begin to weigh the pros and cons of the situation Jackson was speaking again.

"Besides Leese, you don't have anything left for you here. And, as long as you keep your temper in check I won't hurt you; pinky promise." He said with a smirk holding up his baby finger.

"Ok, you're right," she said now completely calm the truth not hurting as much as she thought it would. "I have nothing left here…but why on earth would I go anywhere with _you_?"

'_Because I've been dreaming of this for four months…_' She shook her head hoping to expel the thought as he started to speak.

"Because Leese, I have connections. Someone obviously wants you dead and I can help you find out why. What I'm offering you is a once in a lifetime deal. I'm giving you my help and protection free of charge Lisa. Do you know how much a gig like this usually runs person?"

As he spoke, Lisa looked passed him through the open door of her bed room imagining the vase that sat in her front hall filled with the flowers that he'd sent her. Was she really considering this? She closed her eyes and saw him and her in the alley; his knife held loosely in his right hand, hanging limply at his side. Could she really survive this? She thought of tumbling down the stairs after being tossed over the railing for calling him pathetic. There was still a dull ache in her lower back. She thought of her father's funeral, and how her estranged aunt showed up pretending to have been part of his life all along and looking for compensation. Should I stay, or should I go?

"I'm all you got left," these words broke her thoughts. He was staring at her with a smug grin on his pale face.

She smacked him, hard, smiling at the way his head lolled to one side before turning to face her again. He smacked her back, sparing her no force and she almost toppled over but Jackson caught her righting her body and stepping away as if nothing had happened.

"Listen Leese," he sighed exasperated, pulling a hand through his hair. He checked his ever present Movado- God, when did it get so late? "I'm leaving tonight, with or without you. I'm not gonna force you into this. But, if you'd like to join me I suggest you get ready now." He was back in business mode and Lisa was beginning to wonder if he'd ever been to a psychologist because he clearly was suffering from schizophrenia.

She stood in front of him thinking: weighing the pros and cons of taking Jackson up on his offer. When once again his voice entered her mind, more empty threats about leaving her to die flew from his lips and she wondered, for a split second, why he hadn't left her already. Focusing her vision on him she realized he seemed nervous again. He was saying something about counting to ten but something in his eyes told Lisa that he wasn't going to leave her.

"_Fuck it,_' she thought. And she quickly grabbed a duffel bag out of her closet and began to fill it. Jackson stopped counting and now stood still, just waiting. She saw him check his watch impatiently as she threw two t shirts, a pair of pajama pants, jeans, and all her necessary toiletries into the bag that sat on her bed and then brought it over to her dresser where she, being as discreet as possible, threw in her undergarments. She glanced around her room one last time before snatching up her iPod and turning towards Jackson.

"Ok," she was slightly out of breath from running around her room, "I'm ready."


	5. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: KnockKnock...Who's there? NOT MINE._

_--_

As Lisa left her apartment she took one last look around, she wondered if she'd ever see it again. She was about to willingly embark on a journey with a man she knew could be dangerous. But he was right: she had nothing left in Miami, and her adventurous side, that had lain dormant for so long, was kicked into high gear at the prospect of a much needed change. Jackson, in a show of chivalry, hoisted Lisa's duffel bag onto his shoulder as he began to walk. She grabbed a pair of flip flops that were by her front door before closing it and jogging to catch up to him. Two blocks later they came across a black Lexus LS 430.

The interior of the car was hot against Lisa's bare arms. The sun had gone down only 30 minutes before and the dark leather still retained its heat.

'_Who has black interior in Florida anyway?_'

Silently they drove out of her neighborhood, out of her city; eventually they would be out of her state. And then it dawned on her, she had no clue where he was taking her. They'd been on the road for a little over two hours and she hadn't thought to ask. Lisa closed her eyes and rested her head against the cool window.

"Where are we going?" She asked very quietly so as not to disturb the peace of the car.

"Hmm…?" he replied distracted by the road.

"Where are we going," she repeated her question adding more volume to her voice now.

"North," he said with his eyes still fixed on the road. He stretched out his arm and pointed at one of the I-95 signs that popped up on the side of the road every few miles.

"Funny," she said, although her voice contained no humor. "Listen, I'm here…willingly. Can you just please tell me where you're taking me?"

"Wow Leese, I don't think you've ever been this…civil with me before." She fixed him with a glare that he felt without seeing. Sighing he said, "We're going to New York."

--

The car was silent for a long time after Jackson had told Lisa their ultimate destination; its passengers seemingly lost in their own minds. Lisa Reisert had been to New York a couple of times. Most recently for hotel business but once, when she was 20, to visit a friend in college. She thought back to that particular visit and vividly remembered spending a week sleeping on a ratty old couch that just managed to fit into the tiny space they called a dorm room. Lost in this memory she recalled the drunken frat parties and diners at 2am and then with horrid realization she remembered the cold. Had it been…? Yes, it was December.

'_Fuck…_'

Lisa thought about the small bag she had packed that now resided in the trunk of the Lexus. The duffel contained nothing but t-shirts and jeans, it could've been worse though. She could've packed skirts and tank tops. Then Lisa looked down at her feet and frowned. Flip flops in the snow was _not_ her idea of fun.

"I can't go to New York," she suddenly blurted pulling Jackson out of his thoughts. And then sounding oh so female added: "I've got nothing to wear!"

Jackson snorted and shook his head. "Don't worry Leese, we'll get you a dress before we go to the ball," he said sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant," pause. "Dick. It's December, winter…there'll be snow in New York. Or," she continued before he could comment, "it'll be really fucking cold. I don't even have a jacket, and I'm wearing flip flops!" She finished her rant not knowing what kind of response to expect from him.

Jackson thought for a moment before addressing her, "Well, who told you to wear flip flops?" He questioned her condescendingly while shaking his head. He was getting bored and thought that provoking Lisa would provide him with enough entertainment to drive for at least another hour. He turned his head towards her and watched, slightly elated, as her expression changed from calm to deadly in a fraction of a second. Four months was too long, he should've come back for her sooner; with Lisa around he'd never have to worry about entertainment again.

Lisa removed the flip flop from her left foot and began to beat him. Jackson swatted at the offending piece of foot wear with one hand as he expertly steered the car with the other. Finally he caught the flimsy piece of rubber and, with a satisfied smirk, threw it out of his window. Lisa gasped and turned in her seat watching as her flip flop flew from the car and down the interstate back towards Miami. Then she returned her gaze to Jackson. Her hands were on his neck and he swerved the car to the side of the road.

"You're an asshole!" She was shouting and wringing his neck, violently shaking his head back and forth.

Jackson calmly shifted the car into park before ripping her hands from his throat and vaulting himself over the gear selector. He slammed Lisa against the passenger-side door flinching slightly at the loud thud that came when her head met the window. With deft hands Lisa felt along the door for the handle and, upon finding it, pulled the lever causing the door to open and her and Jackson to tumble out of the car in a tangled heap. She struggled to break free from the mess of limbs but Jackson had somehow made his way on top of her. Lisa Threw her arms out in a wild attempt to knock him off balance and screamed inaudible obscenities as he caught her wrists with one hand, slamming them down above her head, and covered her mouth with the other. He straddled her waist with a knee on either side of her stomach leaving her legs to kick and flail violently behind him and waited. After a moment she stilled, exhausted and breathing hard. He removed his hand from her mouth and loosened his grip on her wrists before speaking.

"Are you done?" He asked hoping that the fire he had ignited was extinguished for the time being. He hadn't realized how tired he was until then and he just wanted to find a place to sleep for the night.

"You owe me a flip flop," Lisa said grumpily. Then, "Get off." She surprised him by rolling to the right; he, in turn, fell to the left. She stood up and brushed the dirt from her body as best she could then shut the door they'd previously tumbled out of before opening the back door and climbing into the car. Jackson also got up and dusted himself off before going to the driver-side door and entering his vehicle.

"Sit in the front."

"No," she replied, her arms were folded across her chest in a show of stubbornness.

"Lisa, I'm not your fucking chauffeur. Sit in the front seat." His voice was demanding now.

"I'm not sitting next to you Jackson," she said matter-of-factly.

"Fine," he said, "if you wanna act like a child…" he trailed off exiting the car, once again, as he did so.

She flinched as he pulled open the door to the backseat. He regarded her for a moment before flicking the child safety lock into place and slamming the door then he circled around to the opposite side performing the same task. Jackson got back into the car with a smug smile on his face. He readjusted the rear view mirror and signaled before merging back onto the road. He pressed the dial for the radio and some random classic rock station came to life bringing along with it Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer".


	6. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I'm running out of disclaimers...would you believe me if I said I bought these characters on Canal street from a young Asain man for 20 dollar AND I got a fake Prada to match?_

_--_

_It was raining hard, a hurricane. She needed to find him. She couldn't go in without him, she'd made her decision. She called out his name but the storm was too loud. She saw him; just off in the distance. Running, she was running to him. Screaming, crying: the tears mixing with the rain. Why didn't he hear her? She was so close, just a few more steps and _BOOM!

Lisa jolted awake to the sound of Jackson slamming his door. She looked up at him and he smirked pointing towards a house across from where the Lexus was parked. Lisa read the sign: Old Academy Bed and Breakfast.

"Let me out," she said to the window raising an eyebrow and gesturing to the door.

"I didn't hear a please," Jackson said in a taunting voice raising his hand to his ear.

"Let me out _now_." She replied agitated by his request.

"Well," he sighed, "if that's how it's gonna be…" Jackson took a step back and lifted two bags that Lisa hadn't seen before. One was hers, the other she assumed to be his. "Ya know Leese; you should really work on your people skills." With that he started to walk towards the house.

She pulled on the handle and hit the window and Jackson stopped walking. He turned towards the car and, for a minute, Lisa thought he was going to open her door. Instead he pointed the transponder in her direction and pressed a button. The Lexus chirruped and a red light blinking on the dashboard told Lisa that he had activated the alarm. She glared at him and he turned back towards the house, continuing his walk. She threw her hands up and looked around the car before discarding her remaining flip flop and climbing into the front seat. The car's alarm beeped loudly as Lisa opened the passenger-side door. Jackson stopped walking, but didn't turn this time; he pressed another button and the Lexus was sedated.

"Guess we're not in Florida anymore," Lisa grumbled as she walked barefoot from the car.

She wondered what state they were in and how long she'd been sleeping. Wherever they were the temperature had dropped at least 10 degrees and, by the time she had crossed the short distance to a seemingly impatient Jackson, Lisa found herself shivering and hugging her arms to her body in an attempt to keep her exposed flesh warm. Upon reaching him, Jackson offered his suit jacket to her and Lisa accepted; hastily pulling it onto her cold body.

"Where are we?" Lisa whispered as Jackson knocked on the door of the Bed and Breakfast.

"Walterboro, South Carolina," he said with a practiced southern drawl.

--

"I am _not_ sleeping with you," she whispered angrily.

"I didn't ask you to," he replied matter-of-factly while rummaging through his duffel bag.

"There's only one bed," she added validating her previous statement by pointing to the queen sized sleigh bed that rested against the back wall.

"Very good Leese, you can count." Jackson walked passed her and locked the door before heading towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Jackson, I'm serious!"

He shut the bathroom door and Lisa heard the shower start. She let out an aggravated growl and sat down heavily on a floral print chair by the window. What had she gotten herself into? She looked around the quaint room taking in her surroundings when a clock caught her eye: 2:43am. Lisa felt sorry for Jean, the poor woman who had shown them to their room. She had answered the door in her bathrobe and slippers, and hadn't seemed the least bit surprised at the sudden appearance of new guests at such an odd hour. Jackson did the talking; apologizing for the time and making light chit chat as the woman, who'd by then introduced herself as Jean, filled out all the necessary paper work before showing the couple to their room and leaving them for the night. Lost in her thoughts Lisa hadn't realized that Jackson was out of the bathroom and jumped slightly when he addressed her.

"Lisa, did you hear me? I said we're both adults here, there's no reason we can't share a bed. It's just one night and…"

"Whatever," she said distractedly while making her way to the bathroom.

Lisa showered and changed in record time and then spent a long while exploring the moderately sized bathroom. Jackson had left some of his things and Lisa, being of a curious nature, took it upon herself to look over his products. Shampoo, conditioner, face wash, body wash, anti-wrinkle cream. She stopped.

"Anti-wrinkle cream…?" She laughed quietly to herself, "Trying to fight those early signs of aging, are we Jackson?"

When Lisa finally left the bathroom she realized an hour had passed. Jackson was asleep on one side of the bed; body straight, face blank, chest rising and falling with deep even breaths almost on the verge of being snores. She watched him for a moment before taking a deep breath of her own and sliding onto the mattress next to him. Lisa made sure that there was plenty of room between them and toyed with the idea of putting a pillow in the empty space to make sure it stayed that way; she turned away from him and closed her eyes letting sleep wash over her body and take her mind away from this strange new world where enemies were saviors and bad men used anti-wrinkle cream.

--

Jackson awoke well rested for a man who had been rudely woken up at least 5 times before. Lisa, being a very restless sleeper, had invaded his space throughout the early hours of the morning. Jackson had woken up around 8:30 to find himself half off the mattress and being pushed the rest of the way. However, upon awakening this time he found himself in a very different situation.

Lisa was sleeping peacefully with her head resting on Jackson's chest. Her left hand was held close to her body while her right grasped onto his t-shirt and her right leg was draped across his legs. Jackson's arms, in turn, were embracing Lisa. His right hand was tangled into her hair while his left hand found its way onto a patch of exposed skin where her tank top had ridden up.

'_This is interesting…_'

Jackson carefully untangled his hand from her hair causing Lisa to stir and mumble something about bumblebees into his shirt. Then he began lifting her right hand ever so slowly as not to wake her. Jackson was sure that if Lisa woke up she'd be enraged by their current position and take it out on him; as if he were the one that had wrapped his body around her.

Once free from her gasp Jackson maneuvered himself, inch by inch, off of the bed. Lisa groaned and, inhaling deeply, pulled her limbs into her body forming a tight ball. He glanced at the clock taking in the time-9:45am-and decided it was best to shower before waking up Lisa. Jackson silently gathered his clothes from his duffel bag and made his way to the bathroom. With one last glace at the sleeping Lisa he shut the door and busied himself getting ready for the day. He smiled at a bruise that was forming on his side from when Lisa unexpectedly kicked him while seemingly fighting off dream monsters. It's been quite some time since Jackson Rippner had slept with a woman without sex being involved; but he had to admit that it felt good waking up with Lisa on top of him, even if she was still fully clothed. He showered quickly and dressed before exiting the bathroom.

Lisa was stirring, the first bits of consciousness streaming into her mind like the sunrise through the blinds. She stretched and made a loud obnoxious sound that ended in a yawn to announce her awakening to the room.

"Good morning, Sunshine." Jackson's voice startled Lisa and she jumped nearly falling off the bed.

"Come on Leese, time to get up. We gotta get moving." He pulled the covers off of her stealing her warmth and comfort.

"What time is it?" She asked through a yawn, keeping her eyes closed as if not quite ready to acknowledge her new reality yet.

"It's almost 10:30," he told her. "It's getting late. Get up, shower, get dressed, let's go." He sat on the bed opposite her and pulled on his socks and shoes.

"Ok, ok, I'm up, I'm going," she grumbled sitting up.

It wasn't until she saw the light frost on the window that she remembered she had no shoes. "Jackson, I'm not going out there until I get some shoes."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair; 10:30 was too early to start a fight so he relented: "Fine, go shower. I'll go get you some shoes." With that he picked up the car keys and left.

"Damn right better get me some shoes, it's your fault I don't have any…" she muttered to herself as he shut the door.

Lisa decided that she'd make use of the luxurious bathtub while Jackson was gone. She didn't know where the closest shoe store was and hoped that it was far enough away for her to enjoy a bath. She ran the water full blast filling the porcelain basin quickly and added some of her bodywash to the running water, making lavender scented bubbles. Once the tub was full she sunk down into the warm water and let it wash her stress away. She must've dozed off because the next thing she knew the bathroom door was open and Jackson was talking to her.

"Ya know Leese, it's very dangerous to fall asleep in the bathtub; you could drown." He was saying smugly as he casually leaned on the door frame.

"Get out!" She threw a wet wash cloth at him but he managed to evade it and retreated from the bathroom unscathed.

"I got your shoes," he said from the other side of the door. "So hurry up so we can get going already."

Despite her need to be uncooperative Lisa got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel before sticking her head out of the door and calling to Jackson, "Can you hand me my bag please?"

Jackson grabbed the bag and mumbled to himself as he crossed the room, "One minute she's kicking me out of the bathroom…the next she's calling me back in, women." He shook his head and handed Lisa her bag.

Lisa came out of the bathroom 10 minutes later wearing yesterday's jeans and a clean but faded Aerosmith t-shirt promoting the 1978 Live! Bootleg tour. She haphazardly pulled her still damp hair into a bun while walking across the room to the bed.

"Here," Jackson said dropping a box by Lisa's feet on his way to the bathroom. Lisa looked reluctantly down at the brown and green Timberland box. She carefully separated the top from the bottom as if she were dissecting a bomb, and peered into the box seizing one of the black boots for further inspection. True to stalker form Jackson had picked out the right size and the boot fit quite comfortably. She wiggled her naked toes and frowned.

"Socks…" she whispered going to her bag. "No socks…hmmm," Lisa tapped her lips thoughtfully as she spun around in a complete circle scanning the room before her eyes landed on Jackson's duffle bag. She glanced towards the bathroom as she made her way, almost tip toeing, to the bag and unzipped it all while keeping an eye on the closed door. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she pried apart the two sides of the bag.

'_Jesus Leese, it's just a bag, get a grip_'

She reached her hand into the bag aiming for a pair of black dress socks balled up near the top; just as her fingers grazed the soft fabric a hand clamped around her wrist. Lisa shrieked in surprise and pulled her wrist from Jackson's harsh grasp.

"What _are_ you doing?" He asked fixing her with an annoyed gaze.

"Calm down," Lisa said firmly, she wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. Then she added, "I was just borrowing some socks."

"Borrowing requires asking Leese." He said while handing her a shopping bag that she hadn't seen during her previous inspection of the room. "I assumed you had no socks," he explained as she opened the bag.

Socked and shoed Lisa gathered the rest of her personal items into her bag then zipped it shut and stood by the door ready to leave.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Jackson asked replacing the last of his toiletries into his own bag.

"No," she shook her head giving him a questioning look, "what?"

"I'm not usually the vain type," Lisa scoffed at this remembering the anti-wrinkle cream she'd seen in the bathroom, "but Leese, you look like you were hit by a truck. Don't you have some cover up or something? People are gonna think I beat you." He finished gesturing to her still bruised face.

She held her tongue at the beating remark and went back into the bathroom to look at her face. The bruise had faded a bit but it still looked bad, she pulled her make up bag out of her luggage and began to gently dab at the bruise until it was less noticeable. Once finished with the task she replaced her make up bag and met Jackson by the door.

"Much better," he said. "Shall we?" He held the door open and Lisa walked out before him making her way through the hall and back to the front entrance of the Bed and Breakfast. They still had roughly 750 miles to go until they got to New York and Jackson was hell bent on making it there without another stop.


End file.
